


You Can't Play the Victim This Time

by starksparkr



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 18:57:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16561433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksparkr/pseuds/starksparkr
Summary: Tony doesn’t talk about his father much—but when he does, it’s usually with disdain. Peter doesn’t know everything about the kind of father Howard Stark was, but he knows that Tony doesn’t want to ever be like him. It’s late Saturday night when Tony stumbles inside, a bottle of whiskey in hand.





	You Can't Play the Victim This Time

“ _Couldn't take the blame, sick with shame_

_Must be exhausting to lose your own game, selfishly hated_

_No wonder you're jaded You can't play the victim this time_

_And you're too late_

_Don't cry to me, if you loved me_

_You would be here with me_

_You want me, come find me_

_Make up your mind_

_You never call me when you're sober_

_You only want it 'cause it's over, it's over_.” –Evanescence, _Call Me When You’re Sober_  

* * *

Tony doesn’t talk about his father much—but when he does, it’s usually with disdain. Peter doesn’t know everything about the kind of father Howard Stark was, but he knows that Tony doesn’t want to ever be like him. It’s late Saturday night when Tony stumbles inside, a bottle of whiskey in hand.

               “Mr. Stark?” Tony can barely walk in a straight line, and his clothes are disheveled as though he’s been out somewhere.

               “Leave me alone.” The words come out as a snarl but are slurred. “I don’t want to talk to you.” Peter knows he probably shouldn’t, but he takes a few steps towards Tony. “Leave me alone!”

               “Mr. Stark? It’s Peter. Parker.”

               “ _Leave me the fuck alone_!” roars Tony. “I am nothing like you, and I will _never_ be you.” Peter barely has time to duck when Tony throws his bottle of alcohol at his head. It hits the wall and shatters into pieces upon impact, covering the floor in liquid and broken glass—and it’s only at this moment that the realization dawns on Peter.

               “Mr. Stark, it’s not Howard. It’s Peter—you’re drunk.” He’s rambling as he tries to match pace with his drunken mentor. “Come on, you need to go to bed.” Tony trips on his feet; Peter catches him—or tries to; Tony backhands him across the face, the blow cracking loudly throughout the room, sending him sprawling across the floor.

* * *

 

               His head is pounding. _Jesus, how much did I have to drink last night?_ The blinds are shuttered, and he feels the soft mattress underneath him… but how did he get here? Tony pulls his sunglasses out of his nightstand drawer, and—against his better judgement—turns on the lights before heading out into the hall. His ears are ringing; it’s not loud, but it takes a few moments before he is able to make out hushed and quiet voices coming from downstairs. He descends the staircase, holding onto the railing, his heart pounding in his chest. Nausea threatens to overwhelm him.

               _What the fuck did I do? What the fuck happened last night?_ The voices belong to Pepper and Peter, he realizes. They’re in the kitchen. The moment Peter sees him, they both freeze. Pepper is rubbing circles into Peter’s back and talking softly to him as he holds an ice pack to the side of his face; there is a scar—raw, fresh, and red—running down from his forehead, down his right eyelid and his cheek. There are no mistaking the dried tear tracks on his face, nor the fresh tears that are streaming down his cheeks. Tony thinks he’s going to be sick.

               _What the fuck have you done?_ Peter’s eyes are cold. There is no light in them as he looks at Tony.

               “Peter—”

               “Thank you, Ms. Potts,” he says, and offers her a weak smile through his tears. When Pepper looks at Peter, there is nothing but love and compassion; her gaze shifts over to Tony, and the disappointment in her eyes makes him want to cry. Peter doesn’t so much as glance as Tony as he storms past him, making his way up the stairs. Tony follows, without hesitation.

               “Peter… Peter, I’m sorry!” Peter slams the door behind him, and there is the familiar click of the door being locked. “Peter, you have to listen to me. I’m sorry, I—”

               “You were drunk out of your mind last night,” Peter hisses through the door. “You _chose_ to drink, Mr. Stark. Don’t you dare give me excuses.”

               “Peter, please—”

               “ _Don’t.”_ Tony has never hated himself more than he does now. His kids voice wavers as he speaks. _You did this to him. You hit him. You made him cry._

               When Tony does get the door open, the window is open—and there is no sign of Peter.

               _What the fuck have you done?_

 

FIN.

 


End file.
